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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25083511">A Quiet Kind of Adoration</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany'>lady_needless_litany</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Don't copy to another site, F/M, First Dates, Getting Together, Moneypenny &amp; Q are BFFs, Post-SPECTRE</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:13:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25083511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The SPECTRE disaster and Bond's desertion certainly hadn't made Eve's life any easier - but there were some upsides.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Moneypenny/Q</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This has been lurking in my WIP folder for a while, but I finally dusted it off for Moneypenny Monday (as part of 007 Fest 2020).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>James Bond was a selfish man. Eve had always known that. She'd known it when she'd been taking her first baby-steps as an MI6 operative, hearing furtive whispers about the Double-Oh agents. She'd known it when she'd been assigned to work with him and when she'd subsequently shot him and lived with the guilt for months. She'd known it when she'd flown halfway around the world for reasons unknown to her and when she'd risked her career, again and again, to help him. She'd especially known it when he'd turned his back on them all and walked into the darkness with a stranger that he'd just met.</p><p>She'd always known it, really, and had learnt his other foibles along the way. Despite it all, against her better judgement, she'd grown to like him and respect him. In fact, she'd gone as far as thinking that they - her and Bond and Q and Tanner, perhaps even M - had developed a good working relationship. While they were colleagues, not friends, their shared experiences had created a definite bond. Sure, Bond had pissed them all off from time to time, but there had always been a layer of understanding, of amenability, between them.</p><p>Except Bond had rather bollocksed that up.</p><p>Had leaving been the right decision for Bond? Probably. But without so much as a farewell, an explanation, or a note of gratitude? It was nothing short of a betrayal.</p><p>The night itself had been stressful, pressured, and dangerous; they were all painfully aware of how close they'd come to catastrophe. In the aftermath, they'd all been hurt by his disappearance, to varying degrees. And to add insult to injury, he'd left the four of them behind to clear up the mess, justify themselves in front of a governmental hearing, and try to restart MI6's stalled engines after the failed merger. For the first few weeks, they'd all been regularly working fourteen-hour days, seven days a week. Her boyfriend had broken up with her because of the hours and she'd been unable to bring herself to go for a spin in the dating market since.</p><p>The only upside, Eve thought gloomily, was that her relationship with Q had grown exponentially warmer. They spent more time together, on lunch breaks and late nights - at that exact moment, at ten-thirty on a winter's night, they were sharing a shop-bought salad in a nearly empty Q-Branch, waiting for 009 to report in. They were three months on from the Blofeld debacle and such circumstances were becoming more common, although the new Q-Branch (M had persuaded Q to relocate to a more practical, accessible locale) was still being broken in. Eve found that she didn't mind the frequent lateness, though any sane person should have; she enjoyed the companionship and the vicarious kick out of the other agents' missions. Her knowledge and experience was an asset, too, which Q was becoming more and more accustomed to relying on the rare occasions when he struggled to direct someone.</p><p>To her surprise, the times that Eve found most enjoyable were the brief periods of downtime that presented themselves just before a mission moved into a critical phase and Q would have to start directing, when the room would become unbearably tense.</p><p>On one such occasion, on one late Thursday night, it occurred to her that Q had some predisposition against chairs. Even then, they were both perching on the edge of his workstation, where he usually stood.</p><p>"I mean, it's a relatively straightforward job," Q said, teeth plying his bottom lip. She'd gotten better at reading his body language - it was a subtle indicator of worry. "The problem is that nothing's ever straightforward when you involve the Double-Ohs."</p><p>Eve hummed in agreement. She knew the truth of those words all too well. "Double-Oh Nine is the least likely to give you trouble," she noted. 009 was, without doubt, a boring sod. She wasn't quite sure how he'd made it to Double-Oh status, except that he was extraordinarily attentive and had an expansive general knowledge.</p><p>"True," Q sighed, chewing a wilted shred of rocket. "But he's not due to report for another hour. You should go and get some sleep. I might just stay here, since there are beds in one of the back rooms that are expressly for that purpose."</p><p>She frowned. "Are you sure? I'm happy to wait, then I can give you a lift home."</p><p>He waved her concern away. "Don't worry. I've got Rebecca and Antoni to keep me company," he replied, gesturing to the room's other two occupants, who were busy analysing data they'd just received from 003 and needed to transmit to the Prime Minister the following day. Both of them were flagging, but were soldiering on, familiar with the unusual demands of their profession.</p><p>"If you're sure..." Eve was still reluctant, having come to feel rather protective over Q, after he'd been threatened and shot out - all the more terrifying, seeing as he hadn't been trained to handle it, like she had. And then, of course, Bond had rubbed salt in the wound by calling on him after the bridge incident.</p><p><em>Still</em>, she thought, with the slightest hint of guilt. The idea of sleep was alluring.</p><p>"Absolutely, don't worry about it!" Q reassured her. "I'll be fine, and you deserve some rest."</p><p>She impaled the last piece of lettuce. "Alright, then. Just promise me you'll get enough sleep."</p><p>He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Promise."</p><p>Slinging her bag onto her shoulder, she put the empty salad container into a bin. It took some effort to convince her body to slide off the table. "If I have time, I'll stop at your's and bring you some fresh clothes in the morning."</p><p>"Thank you, Eve," he said, with a touch of relief. "But, please, don't go out of your way if it's inconvenient."</p><p>"It'll be fine." She was standing in front of him, more or less, and he was still seated. For a split-second, she studied his face; while SPECTRE and Bond were fading rapidly into the past, she could still identify their traces in his visage. He was paler than before and clearly more tired, but she refrained from commenting on either. "I'll see you tomorrow."</p><p>As she said it, she leaned forward and briefly pressed her lips to his cheek. It was an uncharacteristic, unthinking gesture, but one that befitted their newfound closeness.</p><p>He replied with a controlled smile. "See you tomorrow."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Several Months Later</em>
</p><p>Glancing at her watch, Eve tutted. The lift was unbearably slow. Strangely, efficient technology was one thing she missed about their temporary subterranean digs; at least that place had been sufficiently modernised to ensure that the whole operation ran smoothly. The same could not be said for their new Whitehall premises.</p><p>Finally, the doors slid open and deposited her on the ground floor. There was a small lobby, complete with a now-empty reception desk, with a steady trickle of homebound MI6 employees. She made her way towards the entrance with a light sigh, glad to be heading home at a reasonable time of day. She peered beyond the glass door, scoping it out.</p><p>It was late afternoon in early spring, so the light was already dwindling, an effect that was exacerbated by the gunmetal grey clouds that hung directly overhead. And it was raining.</p><p>"Dammit," said a familiar voice behind her, vocalising her own thoughts.</p><p>She turned sharply. It was Q, dressed in a dark jacket and trousers, as had become his custom. Even so, he maintained a slightly frazzled, scruffy aura. It was more endearing - and attractive - than Eve would ever admit.</p><p>"I was hoping to get home without getting wet," he added, sounding a little put out.</p><p>With a nod and another look at the dark sky, she concurred. "Me too."</p><p>A sigh, self-deprecating. "I don't even have an umbrella."</p><p>"It's lucky that one of us is prepared, then," she said archly. "I'll walk you to the Tube station."</p><p>From the depths of her bag - and it took some rifling, she would admit - she procured a pocket umbrella. It was small, neatly folded, and bore a bright pattern. She stepped outside, pushing it upwards and outwards. Q followed her, looking a little doubtful.</p><p>In all honesty, she could understand his lack of conviction. "I don't know if we'll fit properly, but we can try."</p><p>"I'm sure it'll be fine," he managed.</p><p>To stay closer, and thus avoid the rain, Q entwined his arm with hers. Immediately, she noticed the heat that radiated from him, warming her body in the place where they touched.</p><p>"Right, then," she said, as much to refocus her own mind as to prompt him to walk. "Off we go."</p><p>With that, they set out, putting themselves at the mercy of Britain's characteristically miserable weather. The wind had lost winter's bite, but Eve was grateful for her coat nonetheless; it was a navy blue, knee-length affair that served the dual purpose of keeping her warm and drawing the envious looks of even London’s most fashionable.</p><p>The station was relatively close, about four minutes' walk. Still, with the rain sluicing down, that was quite far enough.</p><p>"So," he said conversationally. At Six, Q had developed a reputation for aloofness, for never making the opening social gambit; with Eve, and with a few trusted others, the truth was exactly the opposite. "What are you doing on this fine Thursday evening?"</p><p>She sighed. "Nothing, as per usual."</p><p>"Same here. It's a bit depressing, really."</p><p> </p><p>He was right. As usual. Distantly, she could recall her childhood dreams of secret agents and adventures and excitement; she'd gotten there, sure, but the destination wasn't quite as she'd envisaged. "Oh, well. It's good to know that I'm not alone in acting like an old lady and staying at home whenever I'm not working."</p><p>Pressed against her side, Q laughed. Eve felt it as much as she heard it.</p><p>"Trust me-" Q broke off as they dodged, in tandem, away from the edge of the pavement as a taxi motored past, splashing through a puddle. "Trust me, there are nonagenarians with more gripping social lives than ours."</p><p>A sad truth, but ridiculous enough to prompt a smile. "We should make more of an effort."</p><p>"Probably," Q mused. "In fact, to that end, what would you say to having dinner?"</p><p>One downside to huddling together under an umbrella, Eve was learning, was the fact that you ended up looking straight ahead - looking at the person next to you was unexpectedly awkward. It meant that she couldn't see his face as he made the suggestion, lending a degree of uncertainty to his tone and to exactly what capacity the offer had been made in. Was it simply friendly? Or was it something more? More pressingly, did she <em>want</em> it to be more?</p><p>These were questions that she couldn't bear to process, let alone answer, at that moment in time.</p><p>Nonetheless, Eve was a woman of action, when the situation called for it. Thinking on her feet was one of her greatest strengths. "I can't, unfortunately. I've got a whole raft of errands to run tonight," she responded carefully.</p><p>There. That seemed neutral enough.</p><p>"Fair enough," Q said, genuinely unoffended, if mildly disappointed. "It's a bit short notice. And I'm not sure that my cats would have been too impressed, so you're probably doing me a favour."</p><p>Then, because Eve was naturally headstrong, something compelled her to add, "We can do some other time, though. Maybe tomorrow or next week."</p><p>A kind of pleased surprise was audible in his voice. "I'd love to."</p><p>For the time being, they left it at that. In the silence that followed, however, Eve couldn't deny that her heart was quite aflutter.</p><p>She was still in that state when they reached the Tube, ducking into the station with relief, glad for the shelter and the respite.</p><p>"Thank you for your assistance," Q said to her, with a mild touch of drama.</p><p>She smiled. "You're welcome. Just don't forget your own umbrella next time."</p><p>"I'll try my best." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "So... would you like to go to dinner?"</p><p>God, the man could be dense. "Absolutely," she reassured him. "What about tomorrow? I can book somewhere nearby."</p><p>He nodded. "Perfect. Anyway, I'd best be going."</p><p>He went to kiss her cheek, a common sign of affection between them. He did it as usual, but she responded more that he'd expected: the corners of their lips pressed together, fleetingly. It was nothing, really; it was something that could easily be brushed off, laughed at, forgotten. Especially between friends.</p><p>Maybe it should have been. But it wasn’t: it left Q with a subtle blush and Eve with a somersaulting stomach.</p><p>"Right," she managed. "I'll see you tomorrow."</p><p>He mumbled a reply, one that was too indistinct to properly identify the words.</p><p>With that, they parted company, each going their own way to their respective trains. That was the simple part, Eve rapidly realised. The more challenging bit would be getting her mind together and trying to work out where, figuratively, they were going next.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eve and Q go on their first date. It's a little more disastrous than Eve had hoped.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn't unusual for a whole working day to pass without Eve and Q seeing each other: they were both busy and they worked in completely separate departments. On that day, quite uncharacteristically, it set Eve on edge. </p>
<p><em>Don’t be ridiculous,</em> she scolded herself. <em>You’re a trained field agent, not a highschooler with a crush.</em></p>
<p>Still, in the end, she left early.</p>
<p>As she waited for the lift, she texted him the restaurant’s name and address, along with a reminder not to be late. <em>Six-thirty!!! </em>she wrote. <em>Set an alarm, if you have to.</em> It was a lie, a benign one — Eve knew better than to expect Q to be on time, even though his workday technically ended at five o’clock, so she’d made a reservation for seven.</p>
<p>That left her two and a half hours, more or less. You could do a lot in two and a half hours, especially in the centre of London. On this occasion, though, she chose not to be very adventurous; she set course for the National Gallery, picking up a coffee en route. The National Gallery was one of her favourite places in London, perhaps in the world: it was at once both tranquil and busy, and there was always something more to see. There was a reason, after all, that she'd suggested it to Q, all that time ago. The minutes dissolved, passing without her noticing - a useful thing indeed, as she made a determined effort to keep her thoughts off her date. (Pre-date jitters were the <em>worst</em>, especially when they involved a friend.)</p>
<p>By seven o'clock, Eve was being shown to her preferred table, the one which allowed her to survey the entire room with a single glance. It was a mid-range place, nice but not exceptional (unfortunately, in London, that still meant it was astronomically expensive). At such short notice, it would usually have been difficult to get a reservation at any decent restaurant in central London on a Friday, but this particular Italian was a favourite of M's, and the two of them had been known to stop there for between meetings; the maître d' had developed a slight soft spot for them.</p>
<p>With a smile at the waiter, Eve took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine without waiting for her companion; at any rate, they both agreed that she had a better taste in wine than he did. At precisely six minutes past seven, just as she took her first sip of sauvignon blanc, Q arrived, flustered, dishevelled, and already apologising. </p>
<p>He near-collapsed into the chair opposite her. "I'm so sorry."</p>
<p>She waved away his remorse with a knowing laugh. "Don't worry. I haven't been here long."</p>
<p>"Still, it was rude of me." Q raised his glass; she mirrored him and their glasses came together with a delicate <em>ching</em>. He gestured at his clothes. "I'm sorry that I look like this, too. I thought I'd have time to change, but we both know how shit my time management can be."</p>
<p>Her eyes skimmed over him, appraising. It was true that his hair was a mess, thanks to the miserable weather, and his shirt and jacket were creased from a day's wearing, but not enough to draw particular attention. Besides, she'd always found it amusing that someone whose mind was so razor-sharp could also be a bumbling catastrophe in some parts of everyday life. It was one of her favourite things about him.  "Don't be ridiculous. Besides, I've seen you look a lot worse."</p>
<p>"Don't remind me," he responded, ducking his head.</p>
<p>The waiter reappeared then, delivering a pair of menus. Eve didn't really need one — she had the majority of it committed to memory, which definitely said something worrying about the regularity of work-lunches with M — but she browsed one for appearance's sake, settling on a pumpkin risotto. Q was a little less adventurous, sticking with a classic lasagna. The waiter took their order with amicable efficiency and left them to it.</p>
<p>There was, for a tangible moment, a dearth of conversation, the kind that was almost unique to first dates and job interviews.</p>
<p>“This is a nice restaurant,” Q offered, more to break the silence than anything else. “It was a good call.”</p>
<p>"Thanks. It's… a favourite, I suppose."</p>
<p>Eve desperately racked her brain for something to say. In her line of work, being able to keep people talking was a valuable skill, so it was one that she'd taught herself early on; the problem was that her expertise was designed for the field, not for anything personal or anything that really mattered to her. The habit was hard to shake. Every sentence, every question, that she found on her lips felt artificial.</p>
<p>"I'd recommend the limoncello," she said, after a long pause. "For after dinner, I mean."</p>
<p>"Yes, that's - that sounds interesting," Q returned lamely. "You know, I think I've only had limoncello once. When I was a teenager. My aunt made her own and she made me try it."</p>
<p>That piqued her interest slightly. <em>Teenaged Q. Must've been a nightmare</em>. “Almost can’t imagine you as a teenager.”</p>
<p>“Oh, well. I wasn’t very interesting. Standard computer nerd and all that.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Well, that didn’t get very far.</em>
</p>
<p>Their false starts didn't suddenly give way to genuine conversation, as she'd hoped they would. In fact, she was beginning to fear that she'd made a terrible mistake. Everything that she loved about their relationship had, to all intents and purposes, suddenly evaporated: their easy rapport, their understanding of one another, their connection...</p>
<p>When Eve’s phone buzzed, she was almost relieved; after a brief <em>should-I-shouldn't-I</em> debate, she shot an apologetic look at Q and fished it out of her handbag.</p>
<p>"It's work," she informed him, scanning the message. She kept her explanation vague; you could never be too careful, in their line of work, even if the issue was as run-of-the-mill as this one. "Something's come up that might throw off tomorrow's schedule a bit. Nothing major, no national crises."</p>
<p>As she returned her phone to her bag, Q began to speak, before thinking better of it and ending up with an aborted, "Um."</p>
<p>Most people wouldn't have paid much attention to such a small sound, but Eve caught it immediately. "What were you going to say?"</p>
<p>"Oh. Nothing."</p>
<p>She studied his face, the way he suddenly seemed to be absorbed by the droplets of condensation on his glass, the way his shoulders had curled inwards slightly. A subtle shift, but a noticeable one. "I'm not sure I believe that."</p>
<p>"I know it's not unusual for friends to have dinner together, but this - it feels-" He chewed his lip, reluctant to say it, but knowing he had to. "Is this a date?"</p>
<p>"By my definition, I would say so," she replied slowly. <em>I thought that was obvious. </em>She tilted her head, curious. "Why do you ask?"</p>
<p>“Well,” he said, taking a deep gulp of his wine. He gestured towards her and then towards himself. “I just can’t believe that you and I are sitting here. You know. On a <em>date</em>.”</p>
<p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” It came out sharper than she’d intended.</p>
<p>He winced, clocking his mistake. “Sorry, that wasn’t phrased well. I just meant… Eve, you’re smart and stunning and a fucking field agent, <em>and</em> you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I can't believe my luck, that's all. Are you sure I'm the person that you think I am?"</p>
<p>"Flattery goes a long way." Eve gave a wry smile. "But don't forget, this thing goes both ways."</p>
<p>Q flushed a little. Eve wasn't sure which of her implications was responsible: the compliment or the gentle rebuke for apparently forgetting that Eve was perfectly capable of deciding whether or not she was attracted to someone.</p>
<p>"So," he ventured, giving his words a deliberately light tone. "What calamity has M been caught up in today?"</p>
<p>As attempts at changing the subject went, Q's question was about as subtle as a brick. But, now that they'd gotten any initial confusion out of the way, Eve was more than happy to take it. First dates were supposed to be full of mundane conversation, weren't they?</p>
<p>By the time their food arrived, the awkwardness that had reared its head at the beginning dissolved. It was as if they’d both suddenly remembered that they were friends: they liked each other’s company and conversation flowed easily. Eve noticed as Q’s entire being became more animated, more relaxed. By the time their bottle of wine was running out, he even had her in stitches as he related how he'd once set fire to his kitchen at university through a drunken chemistry experiment.</p>
<p>Fruitlessly pretending not to be laughing at his own story, Q drained his glass. "Dessert?"</p>
<p>"I think I'm alright on that one, thanks," she said, leaning back into her chair.</p>
<p>"That's probably wise," he sighed. "I'm usually too weak to resist the temptation of chocolate."</p>
<p>At that, she laughed. Alongside his endless cups of tea, Q's love of chocolate was legendary in Q-Branch. "By all means, don't let me stop you-"</p>
<p>"No, no. I'll submit to your superior judgement on this one."</p>
<p>Eyes twinkling, Eve teased, "Who am I to get between you and chocolate?"</p>
<p>"A brave woman indeed."</p>
<p>After a brief and rather heartless squabble about who should play, they split the bill and made their way out of the restaurant. They chatted as Eve looked to wave down a cab to take her home; Q, she assumed, would be taking the Tube, but he seemed to be in no hurry to leave her. </p>
<p>"Great choice of restaurant, by the way," he commented, when there was a natural lull. "It's been a nice evening."</p>
<p>She hummed in agreement. "It has."</p>
<p>"Do you, um, want to do this again sometime?" he said, briefly unable to meet her eyes.</p>
<p>With characteristically inconvenient timing, a taxi chose that moment to pull up to the curb, disgorging its previous occupants - as they dithered over payment, Eve turned to him.</p>
<p>"Can I kiss you?" she asked suddenly, almost surprising herself. It was as good a reply as any, she supposed.</p>
<p>"I wouldn't, usually, on a first day. But I think you might be an exception. As always."</p>
<p>That made one corner of her mouth curl upwards. "I'm… honoured."</p>
<p>She leaned forwards, capturing his lips. He kissed back with more conviction than his usual demeanour implied. It was clumsy, in the way that kisses in the middle of the pavement were wont to be, but it was deep and sure and left her wanting more. They broke apart as the other people brushed past them and the driver gestured for them to get in.</p>
<p>Eve's mind was whirling. In all honesty, it felt odd to flirt with Q and even odder to kiss him; they were friends and friends, at least in her book, didn't usually flirt, not beyond a bit of banter. But, then, he was standing there - looking more delectable than he had any right to, given that he looked like a complete mess - and smiling like <em>that</em>, and Eve was suddenly very sure that she wanted him in her bed.</p>
<p>"Do you want to come with me?" she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.</p>
<p>He didn't reply, just nodded and followed her into the cab.</p>
  </div></div>
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